Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
BERT WILSON,
Wireless Operator
BY
J. W. DUFFIELD
AUTHOR OF "BERT WILSON AT THE WHEEL,"
"BERT WILSON, MARATHON WINNER,"
"BERT WILSON'S FADEAWAY BALL"
Copyright, 1913, By
SULLY AND KLEINTEICH
_All rights reserved._
Published and Printed, 1924, by
Western Printing & Lithographing Company
Racine, Wisconsin
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. RUNNING AMUCK 1
II. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 14
III. A STARTLING MESSAGE 26
IV. THE FLAMING SHIP 38
V. AN ISLAND PARADISE 56
VI. THE "GRAY GHOST" 70
VII. A SWIM FOR LIFE 79
VIII. THE CAPTURED SHARK 90
IX. IN THE HEART OF THE TYPHOON 99
X. THE DERELICT 111
XI. THE TIGER AT BAY 124
XII. AMONG THE CANNIBALS 141
XIII. THE HUNTING WOLVES 159
XIV. THE LAND OF SURPRISES 179
XV. THE DRAGON'S CLAWS 195
XVI. THE PIRATE ATTACK 211
BERT WILSON, WIRELESS OPERATOR
CHAPTER I
RUNNING AMUCK
"Amuck! Amuck! He's running amuck! Quick! For your lives!"
The drowsy water front pulsed into sudden life. There was a sound of
running feet, of hoarse yells, a shriek of pain and terror as a knife
bit into flesh, and a lithe, brown figure leaped upon the steamer's
rail.
It was a frightful picture he presented, as he stood there, holding to a
stanchion with one hand, while, in the other, he held a crooked dagger
whose point was stained an ominous red. He was small and wiry, only a
little over five feet in height, but strong and quick as a panther. His
black hair, glossy with cocoa oil, streamed in the wind, his eyes were
lurid with the wild light of insanity, his lips were parted in a savage
snarl, and he was foaming at the mouth. He had lost all semblance of
humanity, and as he stood there looking for another victim, he might
have been transported bodily from one of Dore's pictures of Dante's
Inferno. Suddenly, he caught sight of a group of three coming down
the pier, and leaping to the wharf, he started toward them, his bare
feet padding along noiselessly, while he tightened his grip on the
murderous knife. A shot rang out behind him but missed him, and he kept
on steadily, drawing nearer and nearer to his intended prey.
The three companions, toward whom doom was coming so swiftly and
fearfully, were now halfway down the pier. They were typical young
Americans, tall, clean cut, well knit, and with that easy swing
and carriage that marks the athlete and bespeaks splendid physical
condition. They had been laughing and jesting and were evidently on
excellent terms with life. Their eyes were bright, their faces tinged
with the bronzed red of perfect health, the blood ran warmly through
their veins, and it seemed a bitter jest of fate that over them, of all
men, should be flung the sinister shadow of death. Yet never in all
their life had they been so near to it as on that sleepy summer
afternoon on that San Francisco wharf.
At the sound of the shot they looked up curiously. And then they saw.
By this time the Malay was not more than fifty feet away. He was running
as a mad dog runs, his head shaking from side to side, his kriss
brandished aloft, his burning eyes fixed on the central figure of the
three. He expected to die, was eager to die, but first he wanted to
kill. The dreadful madness peculiar to the Malay race had come upon him,
and the savage instincts that slumbered in him were now at flood. He
had made all his preparations for death, had prayed to his deities,
blackened his teeth as a sign of his intention, and devoted himself to
the infernal gods. Then by the use of maddening drugs he had worked
himself into a state of wild delirium and started forth to slay. They
had sought to stop him as he rushed out from the cook's galley, but
he had slashed wildly right and left and one of them had been left
dangerously wounded on the steamer's deck. The captain and mates had
rushed to their cabins to get their revolvers, and it was the shot from
one of these that had tried vainly to halt him in his death dealing
course. The crew, unarmed, had sought refuge where they could, and
now, with his thirst for blood still unslaked, he rushed toward the
unsuspecting strangers.
For one awful instant their hearts stood still as they caught sight of
the fiendish figure bearing down upon them. None of them had a weapon.
They had never dreamed of needing one. Their stout hearts and, at need,
their fists, had always proved sufficient, and they shared the healthy
American repugnance at relying on anything else than nature had given
them. There was no way to evade the issue. Had they turned, the madman,
with the impetus he already had, would have been upon them before they
could get under way. There was no alternative. They _must_ play with
that grim gambler, Death, with their lives as the stakes. And at the
thought, they stiffened.
The Malay was within ten feet. Quick as a flash, the taller of the three
dove straight for the madman's legs. The latter made a wicked slash
downward, but his arm was caught in a grip of iron, and the next instant
the would-be murderer was thrown headlong to the pier, his knife
clattering harmlessly to one side. The three were on him at once, and,
though he fought like a wildcat, they held him until the crowd, bold now
that the danger was past, swarmed down on the wharf and trussed him
securely with ropes. Then the trio rose, shook themselves and looked at
each other.
"By Jove, Bert," said the one who had grasped the Malay's arm as it was
upraised to strike, "that was the dandiest tackle I ever saw, and I've
seen you make a good many. If you'd done that in a football game on
Thanksgiving day, they'd talk of it from one end of the country to the
other."
"O, I don't know, Dick," responded Bert. "Perhaps it wasn't so bad, but
then, you know, I never had so much at stake before. Even at that I
guess it would have been all up with me, if you hadn't grabbed that
fellow's hand just at the minute you did."
"If I hadn't, Tom would," rejoined Dick lightly. "He went for it at the
same instant, but I was on the side of the knife hand and so got there
first. But it was a fearfully close shave," he went on soberly, "and I
for one have had enough of crazy Malays to last me a lifetime."
"Amen to that," chimed in Tom, fervently, "a little of that sort of
thing goes a great way. If this is a sample of what we're going to meet,
there won't be much monotony on this trip."
"Well, no," laughed Bert, "not so that you could notice it. Still, when
you tackle the Pacific Ocean, you're going to find it a different
proposition from sailing on a mill pond, and I shouldn't be surprised if
we found action enough to keep our joints from getting rusty before we
get back."
The crowd that had seemed to come from everywhere were loud in their
commendation of the boys' courage and presence of mind. Soon, an
ambulance that had been hastily summoned rattled up to the pier, at top
speed, and took charge of the wounded sailor, while a patrol wagon
carried the maniac to the city prison. The throng melted away as rapidly
as it had gathered, and the three chums mounted the gangway of the
steamer. A tall, broad shouldered man in a captain's uniform advanced to
greet them.
"That was one of the pluckiest things I ever saw," he said warmly, as he
grasped their hands. "You were lucky to come out of that scrape alive.
Those Malays are holy terrors when they once get started. I've seen them
running amuck in Singapore and Penang before now, but never yet on this
side of the big pond. That fellow has been sullen and moody for days,
but I've been so busy getting ready to sail that I didn't give it a
second thought. I had a bead drawn on the beggar when he was making
toward you, but didn't dare to fire for fear of hitting one of you. But
all's well that ends well, and I'm glad you came through it without a
scratch. You were coming toward the ship," he went on, as he looked at
them inquiringly, "and I take it that your business was with me."
"Yes, sir," answered Bert, acting as spokesman. "My name is Wilson, and
these are my two friends, Mr. Trent and Mr. Henderson."
"Wilson," repeated the captain in pleased surprise. "Why, not the
wireless operator that the company told me they had engaged to make this
trip?"
"The same," replied Bert, smiling.
"Well, well," said the captain, "I'm doubly glad to meet you, although I
had no idea that our first meeting would take place under such exciting
circumstances. You can't complain that we didn't give you a warm
reception," he laughed. "Come along, and I'll show you your quarters and
introduce you to the other officers."
Had any one told Bert Wilson, a month earlier, that on this June day he
would be the wireless operator of the good ship "_Fearless_," Abel
Manning, Captain, engaged in the China trade, he would have regarded it
as a joke or a dream. He had just finished his Freshman year in College.
It had been a momentous year for him in more ways than one. He had won
distinction in his studies--a matter of some satisfaction to his
teachers. But he had been still more prominent on the college diamond--a
matter of more satisfaction to his fellow students. He had just emerged
from a heart breaking contest, in which his masterly twirling had won
the pennant for his Alma Mater, and incidentally placed him in the very
front rank of college pitchers. His plans for the summer vacation were
slowly taking shape, when, one day, he was summoned to the office of the
Dean.
"Sit down, Wilson," he said, as he looked up from some papers, "I'll be
at liberty in a moment."
For a few minutes he wrote busily, and then whirled about in his office
chair and faced Bert, pleasantly.
"What are your plans for the summer, Wilson?" he asked. "Have you
anything definite as yet?"
"Not exactly, sir," answered Bert. "I've had several invitations to
spend part of the time with friends, but, as perhaps you know, I haven't
any too much money, and I want to earn some during the vacation, to help
me cover my expenses for next year. I've written to my Congressman at
Washington to try to get me work in one of the wireless stations on the
coast, but there seems to be so much delay and red tape about it that I
don't know whether it will amount to anything. If that doesn't develop,
I'll try something else."
"Hum," said the Dean, as he turned to his desk and took a letter from a
pigeon hole. "Now I have here a line from Mr. Quinby, the manager of a
big fleet of steamers plying between San Francisco and the chief ports
of China. It seems that one of his vessels, the _Fearless_, needs a good
wireless operator. The last one was careless and incompetent, and the
line had to let him go. Mr. Quinby is an old grad of the college, and
an intimate personal friend of mine. He knows the thoroughness of
our scientific course"--here a note of pride crept into the Dean's
voice--"and he writes to know if I can recommend one of our boys for the
place. The voyage will take between two and three months, so that you
can be back by the time that college opens in the Fall. The pay is good
and you will have a chance to see something of the world. How would you
like the position?"
How would he like it? Bert's head was in a whirl. He had always wanted
to travel, but it had seemed like an "iridescent dream," to be realized,
if at all, in the far distant future. Now it was suddenly made a
splendid possibility. China and the islands of the sea, the lands of
fruits and flowers, of lotus and palm, of minarets and pagodas, of
glorious dawns and glittering noons and spangled nights! The East rose
before him, with its inscrutable wisdom, its passionless repose, its
heavy-lidded calm. It lured him with its potency and mystery, its
witchery and beauty. Would he go!
He roused himself with an effort and saw the Dean regarding him with a
quizzical smile.
"Like it," he said enthusiastically, "there's nothing in all the world I
should like so well. That is," he added, "if you are sure I can do the
work. You know of course that I've had no practical experience."
"Yes," said the Dean, "but I've already had a talk with your Professor
of Applied Electricity, and he says that there isn't a thing about
wireless telegraphy that you don't understand. He tells me that you are
equally familiar with the Morse and the Continental codes, and that you
are quicker to detect and remedy a defect than any boy in your class.
From theory to practice will not be far, and he is confident that before
your ship clears the Golden Gate you'll know every secret of its
wireless equipment from A to Z. I don't mind telling you that your name
was the first one that occurred to both him and myself, as soon as the
matter was broached. Mr. Quinby has left the whole thing to me, so that,
if you wish to go, we'll consider the matter settled, and I'll send him
a wire at once."
"I'll go," said Bert, "and glad of the chance. I can't thank you enough
for your kindness and confidence, but I'll do my very best to deserve
it."
"I'm sure of that," was the genial response, and, after a few more
details of time and place had been settled, Bert took the extended hand
of the Dean and left the office, feeling as though he were walking on
air.
His first impulse was to hunt up his two chums, Tom and Dick, and tell
them of his good fortune. Tom was a fellow classmate, while Dick had had
one year more of college life. The bond that united them was no common
one, and had been cemented by a number of experiences shared together
for several years back. More than once they had faced serious injury or
possible death together, in their many scrapes and adventures, and the
way they had backed each other up had convinced each that he had in the
others comrades staunch and true. During the present year, they had all
been members of the baseball team, Tom holding down third base in
dashing style and Dick starring at first; and many a time the three had
pulled games out of the fire and wrested victory from defeat. In work
and fun they were inseparable; and straight to them now Bert went,
flushed and elated with the good luck that had befallen him.
"Bully for you, old man," shouted Dick, while Tom grabbed his hand and
clapped him on the back; "It's the finest thing that ever happened."
"It sure is," echoed Tom. "Just think of good old Bert among the Chinks.
_And_ the tea houses--_and_ the tomtoms--_and_ the bazaars--_and_ the
jinrikishas--and all the rest. By the time he gets back, he'll have
almond eyes and a pig-tail and be eating his rice with chop sticks."
"Not quite as bad as that, I hope," laughed Bert. "I've no ambition to
be anything else than a good American, and probably all I'll see abroad
will only make me the more glad to see the Stars and Stripes again when
I get back to 'God's country.' But it surely will be some experience."
Now that the first excitement was over, the conversation lagged a
little, and a slight sense of constraint fell upon them. All were
thinking of the same thing. Tom was the first to voice the common
thought.
"Gee, Bert," he said, "how I wish that Dick and I were coming along!"
"Why not?" asked Dick, calmly.
Bert and Tom looked at him in amazement.
"What!" yelled Bert. "You don't really think there's a chance?"
"A chance? Yes," answered Dick. "Of course it's nothing but a chance--as
yet. The whole thing is so sudden and there are so many things to be
taken into account that it can't be doped out all at once. It may prove
only a pipe dream after all. But Father promised me a trip abroad at
the end of my course, if I got through all right, and, under the
circumstances, he may be willing to anticipate a little. Then too, you
know, he's a red-hot baseball fan, and he's tickled to death at the way
we trimmed the other teams this year. And we all know that Tom's folks
have money to burn, and it ought to be no trick at all for him to get
their consent. I tell you what, fellows, let's get busy with the home
people, right on the jump."
And get busy they did, with the result that after a great deal of
humming and hawing and backing and filling, the longed for consents were
more or less reluctantly given. The boys' delight knew no bounds, and it
was a hilarious group that made things hum on the Overland Limited, as
it climbed the Rockies and dropped down the western slope to the ocean.
The world smiled upon them. Life ran riot within them. They had no
inkling of how closely death would graze them before they even set foot
upon their ship. Nor did they dream of the perils that awaited them, in
days not far distant when that ship, passing through the Golden Gate,
should turn its prow toward the East and breast the billows of the
Pacific.